


Miserably Sick Dean

by MissBayliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:33:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBayliss/pseuds/MissBayliss
Summary: No case. Nothing going on. Just miserably sick Dean.





	Miserably Sick Dean

Sam sat across from Dean at a beer-soaked table, in a hole in the wall bar in west Texas. They’d finished up a hunt the same night, just in time to make last call and burn off the remaining adrenalin. Dean had four shots lined up in front of him, as well as a pint of beer. Sam took a pull of his own.  
“I wish we’d made it before the kitchen closed,” Sam sighed, his stomach grumbling.   
Dean knocked back a shot, wincing at the taste and showing his teeth. He turned to cough into his arm, the cough rattled thick with phlegm and Sam cringed.   
“Dude, maybe we should get an early night. That cough’s sounding pretty bad.”  
Dean flapped a hand, “Nah, man. I’m too jacked to sleep,” he sniffed, washing the shot down with more beer.  
Sam scrunched his face in disapproval, looking at his brother’s arm.   
“How’s the burn?”  
Dean peeled his shirt away to check the wound just below his shoulder. He hissed, some clothing fibers getting stuck in the fresh ooze.  
“Urgh, hurts like a bitch.”  
“Well, at least when we get back to the motel you’ll be… suitably  _numb_ ,” Sam raised an eyebrow as Dean tipped back another shot.   
Dean opened his mouth to respond but quickly smothered a cough into his fist.  
“Sam,” he sighed when he could breathe, “this is literally the only thing making me feel better right now, so…”  
Sam raised his hands in surrender, “Whatever, Dean, but don’t come crying to me when you’re hungover, sick and sore in the morning.”  
“Man, I’ll be fine tomorrow. It’s probably just a two day thing,” he mumbled, hastily grabbing a napkin from the silver dispenser on the table, “ _Huh’ **EKXCHT** Uuh!_”   
Sam checked his watch, “Hasn’t it already been three –“  
“Sam,” Dean warned sternly.   
Sam laughed, “Whatever… and bless you by the way.”  
~  
“ _Hhe’ **ETSSSCHHT**! Hhhh’ehh… **ICKSTXHTU** uhh!_” Dean bent over, napkins shoved against his face and convulsed with coughs.   
Sam winced in sympathy, “Dude, you sound rough.”  
Dean groaned, wiping his face. His cheeks looked flushed, but that may have just been the alcohol.   
“Yeah,” he breathed, voice doughy with congestion, “Think I’m done.”  
Sam smiled, then he got a glimpse of Dean’s arm and noticed a fresh crimson trickle running down his jacket.  
“Ah, man, you’re bleeding,” he sighed, “We gotta fix you up.”  
Dean looked down and cursed under his breath. He clumsily pulled some more napkins and wiped lazily at his sleeve.   
Sam rose from his seat.  
“Come on, man. Keys,” he held out his hand.  
Dean stood up and wobbled, “ _NNnnng,_ head rush.”  
Sam put a hand to Dean’s back, “Y’alright?”   
“I think I maybe… shouldn’t’a had those shots.”  
Sam huffed, “Yeah. Come on. Keys. Let’s get back and I’ll patch you up.”  
~  
Dean lay on his bed in their disco themed motel room, shirt off and Sam sat on the bed next to him, using tweezers to pick tiny bits of his t-shirt out of his burn wound. Worse than the throbbing in his arm was the state of his worsening cold. And it was getting worse minute by minute.   
Dean turned his head to the side and coughed.  
“Dude,  _geez_ , you gotta stay still.”  
“S-sorry,” he grunted between coughs.  
Sam had drawn the tweezers back and was waiting for Dean to stop shuddering.   
“I just have to get these last bits out, then I can dress it. I’d have been finished ages ago if you’d just stay still.”  
Dean groaned out loud and fumbled for the tissue box.  
“ _Huh’ **ETXCHUEW** w! Uh, god…_”   
“You done?” Sam raised an eyebrow.  
“Screw you, Sam,” Dean croaked.   
Sam chuckled and put his other hand on Dean’s arm to still him.   
“Almost done,” he muttered, the sharp tweezers driving carefully into his wound.   
“S-Sam…” Dean muttered, breath hitching lightly.   
“Nearly there, hang on.”  
“ _Hhh…”_  
“Dean…”  
“ _Heh’ **KKSCHHTT** u! AH! _Son of a  _bitch!_ ”  
“Oh my god, sorry.”  
Dean groaned, “… I have a headache.”  
~  
Dean had well and truly been waiting for the case to be over before he let his body  _really_ get sick. He’d dropped all defenses and was a complete and utter mess. The position of his wound meant he couldn’t bend at the shoulder, which was hard when he was wiping at his nose every five seconds.   
“Here,” Sam approached Dean’s bed, offering two advil.   
Dean cleared his throat and sat up a little.   
“You gonna be able to get some sleep tonight?”  
“God, I hope so,” Dean croaked, his voice raspy and thick.   
“Regretting those shots yet?”  
“Urgh, shut up.”  
Sam moved the trashcan to the edge of Dean’s bed, and put a bottle of water and a box of tissues on the nightstand, along with more advil in case Dean needed it in the night.  
“Good night, man.”  
Dean sunk down the bed and tugged his blankets up, “Night, Sammy.”  
~  
Sam woke the next morning and found tissues scattered all over the floor.   
 _So much for the trashcan,_ he thought.  
The water bottle was half drunk and the tissue box was empty, but Dean was sleeping soundly, flat on his stomach, head turned towards Sam.  
He’d heard his brother stirring through the night. A few coughs here and there, some sneezing and snuffling. But during the case they’d been burning the candle at both ends and Sam’s body was almost as ready as Dean’s was for a good night’s sleep.   
He could tell from the scene around him though, that his brother had had a very rough night.   
Sam gathered his senses after the long overdue sleep and started to clean up, delicately placing all the tissues  _into_ the bin. He thought about touching Dean to test for fever but decided it was better to leave him sleep. He pulled his boots on and went out to grab some coffee. He wasn’t sure if they’d need to pay for an extra day or if Dean would want to get the hell outta dodge, so he decided to discuss that with Dean when he woke up,  _if_ he woke up before check out time.   
As it turned out, Dean was awake when he got back in with two steaming cups of joe stacked on top of each other in one hand.   
“Mornin’,” Sam greeting, closing the door behind him, “How you feeling?”  
Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He sniffled, looking up blearily.   
“ _Geez_ , you look, uh… coffee?” Sam offered.   
Dean coughed into his sleeve, “Baybe layder,” he moaned thickly.   
“God, Dean. Are you alright, man?”  
Dean shook his head, then grabbed his head and winced, “Doh, dot alright.”  
Sam sighed, “You want me to go back out and get you some cold and flu meds?”  
“ _Huh’ **TTSCSSHT**! Heh’ **KSCHXT**!_ ” Dean sneezed into his sleeve.  
“And tissues?” Sam quirked, offering a slight smile.   
Dean shuddered and started getting back under the covers.  
“Wait, wait, wait. Hang on.”  
“Whad, Sam? I feel likge crap.”  
“Let me check your dressing first. I might have to change it.”  
“ _Urrrgh_ ,” Dean groaned, straightening up. His hands were shaking as they found the hem of his Henley and pulled up, his movements sluggish and stiff.   
“ _Nngg_ ,” he winced, and tucked his arm back against his side.  
“Hey, let me,” Sam pushed Dean’s head through the hole and slid the sleeve down his injured arm. The dressing was wet, soaked through, leaving a damp patch on his shirt. Sam grimaced, “Yeah, I need to change it.”  
Dean coughed into his fist, and Sam watched the muscles in his chest quiver.   
“You should take something first. Think you can eat something?”  
“Doh, dot really hungry,” Dean sniffed.   
“’Kay, I’ll get you Tylenol.”  
Dean licked his lips, sniffling thickly as Sam popped out two Tylenol onto his hand.  
“Here, man,” Sam handed Dean a glass of water and he swallowed the pills with a tight grimace.   
“Alright, you can lie back. I’ll get a towel and the first aid kit.”  
Dean coughed into the crook of his elbow on his good arm, struggling back into bed.   
When Sam came back from the bathroom Dean was flat out, chest heaving up and down like he’d just run a marathon. He flinched when Sam touched him to remove his old dressing, like he’d been close to sleep.   
“This is pretty warm, Dean. I hope it’s not infected,” Sam said, gently prodding the skin around the wound.  
“ _Mmmm_ ,” Dean groaned.  
Sam frowned and lay his hand flat on Dean’s forehead, “Scratch that. You’re warm all over.”  
Dean groaned again and flung his other arm over his eyes. Sam sighed and set to cleaning and redressing Dean’s arm. Dean managed to stay still while Sam worked, still and quiet, save for the sound of his breath that was coming in noisy and far too quickly.  
“Alright, all patched up.”  
Dean didn’t move.  
“Dean?” Sam put a hand on Dean’s head, feeling his soft, warm hair, “Ya’alright?”  
“Huh?” Dean startled, which gave way to a rattling coughing fit.   
Sam patted Dean on his thigh and stood up, “Okay, I’m gonna go pay for a few more nights and run out and get us some supplies. You gonna be alright?”  
Dean sniffed and finally looked up at Sam, acknowledging his presence, “Don’t thingk I’b up to hittin’ the road today, Sab.”  
Sam sighed, suppressing an eye roll, “We’re not going anywhere, man. Just take it easy, alright? I’ll be back soon.”  
~  
Sam paid up for two more nights then headed out to the pharmacy. He stocked up on cold and flu meds, cough syrup, lozenges, and tissues before hitting the supermarket to grab some comfort food. He got several packets of two minute noodles, knowing how Dean liked the hot broth on his throat when he was sick, as well as canned soup, Gatorade, crackers, and three different kinds of juice. Once he was satisfied that he would be well prepared for a very sick Dean he drove back to the motel where he’d left his snoozing brother.   
He jingled the key in the lock but eased the door open quietly, a bag on each arm, but Dean was not in his bed like he’d expected.   
“Dean?”  
Sam shut the door and put the bags on the table as a stumbling, pale faced Dean emerged from the bathroom in sweatpants and nothing else, hair damp and flopping down on his head.   
“Hey, man. How you feeling?”  
Dean sniffed, “I thoughd a shower would bake be feel bedder,” he cleared his throat, swayed as he crossed the room to his bed, “I was wrong.”   
Sam grimaced, “Well, I brought you meds and food and tissues.”  
Dean smiled weakly as he sat on the edge of his bed, the swollen bruises under his eyes wrinkling, “Thagks, Sabby.”  
“I paid for two more nights.”  
Dean nodded, stealing two tissues from the box and fitting them around his nose. He let loose a long crackling burble into the tissue, followed by coughing and a congested sneeze.   
“Bless you.”  
“I thingk I god by dressig wed,” Dean mumbled, picking at the curled up corner of the white bandage on his shoulder.  
Sam stepped closer, putting a hand on his brother’s arm.  
“Yeah, well and truly,” Sam sighed.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s alright. I’ll change it again.”  
“Hands are freezig,” Dean shuddered.  
“Pretty sure that’s the fever.”  
Dean sniffed, “Yeah, probably.”  
~  
Dean dropped another tissue into the full trashcan.  
“I ab friggen sigk of blowig by nose.”  
Dean’s nostrils and upper lip were red raw, little flakes of skin starting to peel from the excessive, almost constant sneezing and blowing. Sneeze, blow, rest, cough, sneeze, sneeze, blow… Like clockwork.   
Sam sighed, looking up from his laptop, “I know, man. You should try and sleep again.”  
Dean coughed hard, rolling onto his side “… Cand’t sleep.”  
Sam thought it looked like he’d wanted to say more than that but he was saving every syllable for energy, and the way he was sucking down lozenges his throat must have been killing him.   
“How’s your throat?” Sam asked, getting up to make Dean some tea.  
“Dot as bad as by head,” Dean moaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple.   
“Headache?”  
“Feels ligke by head’s ind a vice.”  
Sam frowned.  
“ _Huh’ **KTSCHTT** ttuh! Urrrgh…_” Dean inhaled deeply, “ _Heh’ **SCHHCHKXk**!_ ”  
“Bless you, dude. I think it’s time for more drugs anyway.”  
Dean swallowed everything he was handed and flopped back on his bed, exhausted from being partially upright.   
“How about you eat something warm? It might help you get to sleep. I got noodles,” Sam offered, hopeful he could ease some of his brother’s pain.   
Dean didn’t move for a moment, breathing carefully. Then he cracked an eye open and smirked tiredly. Sam took that as a yes.  
~  
Dean had fallen asleep soon after, the noodles working like a charm. He was curled on his side though, mouth slightly open so he could breathe. The sun had gone down and Sam slipped out for an hour to grab a pizza for himself. He relished the fresh air, deciding to eat out instead of bringing the smell of greasy pizza back to the motel, just in case Dean’s stomach wasn’t feeling the best. He was still sipping on a can of coke when he got back, finding his brother still asleep.   
~  
Sam woke later in the night to Dean coughing. That wasn’t surprising or concerning. He knew Dean was sick and would probably keep the both of them up for the next few nights. What was concerning was the small sound that came after, cross between a whimper and a moan. Sam rolled over.  
“Dean?”  
Sam sat up and flicked the bedside lamp on.  
Dean moaned again and shielded his eyes.   
“What’s wrong?”  
“The lighd,” Dean rasped.  
Sam shut the light off, but now he could no longer see Dean, just hear his rapid breathing.   
“Dean, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”  
“By head, Sab… it hurts so bad.”  
“The light hurts your eyes?”  
“Yeah…  _God_ …”  
Sam put the pieces together.  
“I think you’ve got a migraine.”  
Dean didn’t reply.   
“Hang on, I’ll get you something for the pain.”  
“I don’t kndow if I cand bove…”  
Sam sighed and used his phone to light his way, shining it into the first aid kit and grabbing the vicodin. He sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed and felt for his brother’s shoulder.  
“Hey, come on.”  
Dean struggled up onto an elbow and Sam steadied him, giving him the pill followed by a glass of water. Dean took a sip and swallowed the pill, wincing.   
“You should drink a bit more.”  
Dean lay back down, “I cand’t. Feel sigk.”  
“Okay…” Sam relented, ghosting a hand across his brother’s back, “Hopefully that’ll kick in soon and you can get some sleep.”  
“Mm…”   
~  
The next morning came with dew on the grass outside and birds whistling, like it was going to be a good day, but Sam knew it was going to be just the opposite of that.   
Dean was lying on his back, sweat on his brow and in the dips and grooves of his neck. Sam was just getting up when a truck pulled passed the motel, so loud it rattled the walls, and Dean woke with a start, coughing haggardly.   
Sam waited till he was finished.  
“How’s your head feeling?”  
Dean sniffed, “Bedder.”  
“That’s good. You should have woken me up earlier, man. I didn’t realize you were feeling so bad.”  
Dean struggled to the edge of his bed. When he got there he just sat, breathing heavily before he shrugged.   
Sam furrowed his brow, “Your throat still sore?”  
Dean brought his hand up and made a so-so gesture.   
“I’ll take that as a yes.”  
“ _Huh’ **KESTCH** Hhuh! Heh’ **PSCHHTT** ew! Urrghh…_”   
“Bless you.”  
Dean grumbled.   
“What do you need, man?” Sam scrunched his face up, watching his brother hunch over.  
He cupped his hands over his face, “ _Huh’ **TTSCHHP**!_  I’b okay…”   
Dean fumbled for the tissue box, breath still hitching, “ _Heh’ **TSCHT**! Huh’ **KKSCHT**!_ ” he caught those ones in his elbow before he could push the tissues to his nose, “ _Hhh’ **KTSCHT** UuHhh!” _  
“Bless you.”  
Dean squinted at Sam, then proceeded to blow his nose. A deep gurgling, sputtering noise. Dean threw the tissue in the bin and pulled out a few more, blowing again and again until he was seemingly satisfied… or too exhausted to continue. He coughed into his fist and Sam handed him a glass of water.  
Dean squeaked and it might have been an attempted ‘thank you’.   
Sam sighed, “You want breakfast?”  
“Urgh,” Dean moaned.   
Sam frowned, “Maybe you should lie back down and get some more sleep.”  
Dean sniffed, blinking slowly, “Should… take a shower.”  
“Alright, man.”  
Dean stood up and swayed, reaching both hands out to catch something, anything. Sam was up and had his hands clasping Dean’s elbows, his brother gripping back as he steadied himself against him.  
“Okay?” Sam asked, feeling Dean’s warm, clammy skin slide under his fingers.  
“Yeh,” Dean nodded, panting furiously.   
“Maybe you should forgo the shower today.”  
Dean swallowed, paling, his eyes shut, “Dah… feel gross.”  
Sam sighed again, moving his hands to his brother’s shoulders and guiding him in the direction of the bathroom, “Call out if you need me.”  
Dean didn’t even shut the door behind him, he just pushed it mostly closed. Sam frowned listening to Dean’s wet coughs on the other side of the door, hoping he didn’t pass out or fall over in the shower.   
Sam took a breath when he heard the shower come on, happy knowing he’d at least made it that far. The younger hunter busied himself cleaning up the room. Dean’s bed sheets were damp, a darkened sweat patch on his pillow. He swapped the pillow out for another he found in the cupboard. He didn’t have extra sheets so he just put down the blanket from his bed so Dean had something a bit dryer to sleep on.   
The water shut off and Sam hovered by the door.   
“Sab?” Dean’s voice was rough, strained.   
“Yeah, Dean?” Sam answered immediately.  
Dean coughed, “Could you brig be clothes?”  
“Sure,” Sam muttered.  
He shoved boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt through the door and felt them taken from his hands.   
Another few minutes and Dean emerged, shaky and weak looking. He offered Sam a sideways smirk as he crossed the room and sat down on the bed.   
“You want pills?” Sam asked, still standing by the bathroom door.  
“God, yes,” Dean mumbled behind a cloud of tissues, “ _Heh’ **TTSCHT**! Huh’ **PSSCTHT**! Hhh’ **CHXSCHT**! Hhhh… huh’ **KSTCHEW**!_ ”  
“Geez, bless you.”  
Dean coughed into the tissues, “Kill me.”  
Sam laughed, “You survived purgatory, you can survive a head cold.”  
Dean blew his nose and groaned, “Gah, I’d take the monsters any day.”  
Dean’s arms were shaking when he finally lowered them from his face.  
Sam brought him water and pills, “Here, go back to sleep. There’s no monsters today.”  
Dean groaned again and swallowed the pills. He coughed a little afterwards.  
“Yeah,” he rubbed his eyes, looking bone weary.  
Sam watched Dean sit there with a vacant expression for a moment before he started pushing him into bed. Dean flopped back gratefully and burrowed himself into the covers Sam spread over him.   
Sam put a hand on Dean’s head, “Feel better, bro.”  
  
End.


End file.
